Recap:
Lord Lynx drank from Marienne's poisoned cup and lived. She watched in disbelief as the man she meant to kill smiled through the pain. Now, poison burns through his veins, but the fire in her eyes burns hotter still.
The room was quiet again. Only the crackle of the fire filled the silence.
I could still taste the wine on my tongue — bitter, rich, dangerous. My pulse thundered somewhere between my throat and my skull, but I kept my face steady.
Marienne sat across from me, veil lowered, her expression unreadable. Her fingers still traced the rim of her untouched goblet.
Finally, she spoke. "That was foolish."
"Living always is," I said.
She studied me, eyes glimmering through the soft veil. Then she rose from her chair and circled the table until she stood behind me. I didn't move.
Her fingers rested on my shoulder again — light as silk, cold as intention. "Your heart is racing," she whispered. "Afraid?"
"Excited," I said.
She drew in a slow breath, so close I could feel it at the nape of my neck. "You think this is a game, Lord Lynx?"
"I know it is," I murmured. "And I think you do too."
[System Update: Corruption – Marienne Duskveil 18% → 23%.]
[Note: Dangerous women appreciate confidence. Or stupidity.]
Her hand tightened slightly, then released. "Confidence suits you poorly," she said, moving to stand before me again. "It reminds me too much of him."
"Your husband."
A flash in her eyes. Sharp, cold. "Do not speak his name."
"Then why invite me to drink in his memory?"
Her gaze flicked toward the broken wine bottle on the side table. The mask she wore — composed widow, calm assassin — faltered for a heartbeat. "Because I wanted to see you flinch."
"I didn't."
"No," she whispered. "You didn't."
The silence stretched again, full of things neither of us wanted to name.
Marienne turned away, her hands clasping before her. "I should dismiss you," she said, voice softer now. "Before the poison finishes what it started."
I stood. "You could."
She looked over her shoulder. "And you'd still walk out of here alive?"
"Maybe," I said. "But you'd still be wondering why you didn't stop me."
The words hung in the air between us — challenge and invitation in one.
The veil hid her mouth, but I saw the way her breath changed. The faint tremor when she spoke again. "You think you understand me."
"I wrote your kind," I thought but didn't say. Instead, I took a step closer.
[System Note: Proximity increasing. Hormonal instability detected.]
Her eyes flickered, then steadied. "Leave," she said.
But her voice didn't sound like a command anymore.
The poison still pulsed faintly, heat spreading under my skin, but my focus was all on her — the widow who wanted me dead, who couldn't quite look away.
I stopped a single step away from her. "You invited me to drink," I said quietly. "But not to die, did you?"
Marienne turned to face me fully, and for the first time, the veil slipped aside.
Her face was flawless — not in a fragile way, but in the dangerous, seasoned beauty of someone who had lived through both desire and ruin. Her lips, painted deep red, curved slightly as if mocking me.
"Tell me what you think you see," she said.
"A woman who wanted vengeance," I answered, "and found curiosity instead."
Her expression froze, then softened. Just barely.
[System Update: Corruption – 23% → 30%.]
[Bonus: Emotional resonance triggered.]
The tension broke like glass — not gone, but reformed, sharper.
Marienne stepped back, pulling her veil up once more. "You should leave, Lord Lynx."
I inclined my head. "As you wish."
But as I reached for the door, she said quietly, "The poison won't kill you."
I turned, one eyebrow raised.
"It was never meant to," she said, eyes downcast. "Only to burn."
Her gaze lifted, steady now. "So tell me, villain… how long can you stand the fire?"